With the mid-day sun shining on her terrace, Anju Agarwal tends to more than 50 plants in her terrace garden, which includes varieties of spinach, tomatoes, carrots and beetroot.
Anju Agarwal has three terrace gardens in her house with over 50 plants Debadatta Mallick
Chennai :
With the mid-day sun shining on her terrace, Anju Agarwal tends to more than 50 plants in her terrace garden, which includes varieties of spinach, tomatoes, carrots and beetroot. Her house in Choolaimedu has three terrace gardens, each with a variety of fruit, vegetables and herbs.
“There isn’t a particular order to all the plants here. Other people usually have set rows and area. My plants are always interspersed, and I never know what I’m going to get from them. It’s always a surprise,” says Anju.
Her love for organic gardening began when she was 10 years old and living in her childhood home in Juhu, Mumbai. “We had a huge bungalow, and we maintained a kitchen garden then. Ever since then, my father never used urea or any other chemical. We used cow dung and bone meal. Our bottle gourds would be a foot or a foot-and-a-half long!” says the 52-year-old. After her marriage in 1993, she moved to Chennai, at a time when it was difficult for her to find the right tools to start her organic kitchen garden.
In 2007, her parents-in-law fell ill and needed her constant attention. “At that time, I was stressed. I turned to gardening as it was the only thing I knew, and it became a source of joy for me,” she says. She then attended a meeting for gardening enthusiasts and she made two friends with whom she set up The Organic Garden Foundation, which holds conventions on organic farming and produce, all over the city. Now, Anju sells organic soaps made using the produce from her garden.
“A lot of people look at what their plant needs, not what the soil needs. The soil has to be healthy. I recommend people concentrate on soil. Once a plant’s cycle is over, I take out the soil, wash the container, leave the soil out in the sun for ten days, and add nutrients to it,” she says. She also recommends rotating vegetables, as different plants require different nutrients, which are depleted from the soil and needs to be replenished. For example, after growing a vegetable like okra, she grows spinach as it restores nitrogen in the soil.
Anju spends time testing and trying out the current trends in organic farming that she finds on the internet, and noting down the results in a diary. She is currently trying organic hydroponics and a composting method by Dr Krishna Jargan.
Her container farm also grows Barbados cherries, figs and pomegranate. She also grows turmeric and chillies, which she dries and powders to use in her kitchen. Her husband Sanjay, who she says is a huge supporter of her passion, often checks the garden in the morning and evening. Surrounded by spring onions, cabbages, cauliflowers, papaya, bananas, guava, lemons and sweet potatoes, she uses a drip-feeding system that Sanjay installed to ensure her plants are taken care of.
For details, call Anju on 9941010441 or check her FB page, Anju’s Garden.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Chennai / by Rochana Mohan / Express News Service / November 14th, 2018
Google is partnering with Madurai-based Aravind Eye Hospital on an AI-based algorithm to screen diabetic retinopathy and detect the early onset of blindness
Remember those colourfully-lit weighing machines on railway platforms that would take a coin and give out a small cardboard ticket with the person’s weight and fortune? The Chief Medical Officer at Madurai’s Aravind Eye Hospital (AEH), Dr Ramasamy Kim, uses this analogy to explain how people could get a preliminary eye check-up done instead of visiting an ophthalmologist in the future.
“In one look, the machine will predict the condition of the retina and advise on the next step of action in seconds,” he says. All thanks to artificial intelligence (AI) in ophthalmology. He has been working on the technology with Google since 2013.
“The impact,” he says, “will be seen in patient care and diabetes management.” He imagines a scenario where the scope of algorithms on smartphones will not require the consumer to even go near a machine. “People can take selfies of the eye on their phone cameras and have instant access to ophthalmic care.”
The two organisations have been working on an automated tool that could detect diabetic retinopathy (DR), the second leading cause of blindness. DR is a condition where lesions develop in the retina of the eye of those living with long-standing diabetes. It puts them at risk of losing vision, if left untreated.
In April this year, USA’s Food and Drug Administration validated AI as a significant DR screening tool. “We now have to publish our research paper and await the certification before we can start implementing it in our routine work,” says Dr Kim. The licensing of the AI algorithm for use is expected by the year end, and is foreseen as a tremendous boost to eye care.
As head of the Retina department, Dr Kim gets over 600 patients daily in his out-patient department, of whom many spend time and resources in travelling to the hospital and waiting for their turn. There are many more left out, who do not come to the hospital simply because of lack of awareness. Eye doctors recommend a mandatory annual examination for all people living with diabetes and every person above 40 years. Dr Kim says in a country like ours, where the patient volume is high, AI will make the diagnosis quicker, and also rev up treatment to avoid preventable loss of vision.
“If the captured image of the eye shows negative for DR, then the person will be advised to rescreen after 12 months. And in case of a positive result, the person would be asked to see an ophthalmologist for further evaluation and immediate treatment,” explains Dr Kim.
When a person can avoid hospital visits up to the stage of detection of DR, it may appear healthcare is lending itself to the risk of machine calculations instead of relying on human knowledge and experience. But Dr Kim argues in favour of using technology effectively and efficiently in times when computers are available everywhere and to everybody but healthcare is not.
The World Health Organization estimates 71 million Indians live with diabetes and at least 20% of them suffer from DR. Of these, 20% are not even aware of their eye condition because they haven’t been in to a doctor for examination. Those who come to an ophthalmologist get their retinal images graded manually in what is today a time-consuming process taking from few hours to few days.
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Google predicts
Google has already débuted an algorithm to 97% accuracy that can identify a person’s age, sex, ethnicity and smoking status and predict the five-year risk of a heart attack, all on the basis of retinal imagery. The AI for DR has been found to be 87% sensitive and 90% specific for detecting more than mild diabetic retinopathy
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AEH, however, has been working on a semi-automated format since 2003, tying up with diabetic clinics across Tamil Nadu. When a patient walks into the clinic, a technician takes pictures of his/her retina with a fundus camera, and along with an online questionnaire answered by the patient, emails it to trained Aravind staff who use a software to grade the image for DR. By the time patients are done with their diabetes check-up, they are also informed about the status of their eye and the necessary follow-up action.
Aravind also has an established network of 71 vision centres across rural Tamil Nadu, that are supervised by trained technicians who take snapshots with retinal cameras of the inside of the eye of every person who walks in, and sends the digital reports to Aravind’s doctors, who then call in a diagnosis and course of treatment. Now, with the Google algorithm in place, the process of collating information and grading retinal images will be standardised and faster.
Dr Kim has spent the last four years working on 10,000 retinal images, drawing every lesion, distinctive spots, bleeding in the retina due to diabetes that could occur in various permutations and combinations, to help Google develop the algorithm that would recognise the signs of the disease early. From June this year, Aravind Hospital started supplementing its DR grading process with the Google AI in 10 of its rural tele-consultation centres. “The results are accurate,” says Dr Kim, who is now working on 60,000 retinal images for matching the grading results from the machine and the human eye in order to fine-tune the algorithm. He says the algorithms pick up problems that trained people sometimes can’t and different ophthalmologists can end up giving different opinions looking at the same image of the eye.
Google has created a database of 1,28,000 images from different sight centres around the globe, including two more in India — Sankara Nethralaya in Chennai and Narayana Nethralaya in Bengaluru. Dr Kim is one of the experts evaluating the data.
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Did you know?
One of the first examples of AI being used in science was a project called Dendral in the 1960s, which helped organic chemists identify unknown organic molecules.
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“The day is not far when AI will go solo, because there are two benefits of machine learning. More people will be able to check their eyes at a much lower cost, time, and effort, and doctors will be able to treat more patients who are at risk,” says Dr Kim, allaying fears of doctors left with less work. “The AI, in fact, will throw up huge numbers and accurately spot the vision status and detect the multiple problems or vision-killing conditions. It only means I will get many more patients to treat and reduce the several rounds of redundant tests.”
Though the challenge of a machine may lie in any false negative and deprive a patient of consultation, Dr Kim says AI is superior to anything that he has seen in DR screening. “The machine is able to see something beyond the human eye,” he says, “and as a doctor, my only interest is in getting a greater number of patients at an early detected stage for successful treatment.”
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Sci-Tech> Technology / by Soma Basu / November 12th, 2018
It was an evening of celebrating nationalities at the 21st edition of Annual Beautiful India Photo Competition for expatriates organised by Global Adjustments Foundation in the city on Saturday.
The India LIVING awards was organised on Saturday Debadatta Mallick
Chennai :
It was an evening of celebrating nationalities at the 21st edition of Annual Beautiful India Photo Competition for expatriates organised by Global Adjustments Foundation in the city on Saturday. Beautiful India has been the only photo competition for expats living in India.
After 23 years of publishing Culturama, India’s only free magazine for global citizens, Global Adjustments Foundation added a second arm, Culturama LIVING, a luxury lifestyle magazine. As a tribute to their times, the first India LIVING awards was organised as part of the event.
“We honour high achieving Indians from different fields including music, humanity, culture, sports and business among others. We not only want to focus on glitz and glam, but hold on to substance,” said Rohini Manian, CEO, Global Adjustments Foundation.
This year’s winners include Dipika Pallikal Karthik (Sports Star), Girish Mathrubuthoom (Business Unicorn), The Banyan (Humanitarian), Rahul Vellal (Rising Star), Pradeep Dhadha (Business Excellence), Steve Bourgia (Cultural Visionary), VR Ferose (Thought Leader) and dancer Shobana (Living Icon).
“You have to be passionate and obsessed about something to achieve excellence; however, the meaning of excellence differs from person to person,” said Shobana.
On the other hand, 300 entries from 14 nations were received for the photo competition. The winners were awarded for their ability to capture their experience of local culture as well as for their technical skills in photography. The categories this year were Faces, Places, Into India and Culture and Festivals.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Chennai / by Express News Service / November 14th, 2018
Kanakavalli’s Vanam Singaram colouring book is an attempt to show people that there’s so more to a Kanjivaram sari than just the silk
“All of us cannot be weavers or designers, but a colouring book allows us to play a part in the craft in a way, inviting us to appreciate and engage with it,” says S Ahalya, founder of Kanakavalli that curates exclusive Kanjivaram saris. She set up the Ekavalli Foundation to take her love for the gorgeous Kanjivaram story further than saris and its début initiative is a big square cream and gold colouring book called Vanam Singaram (The Forest Adorned). “What excites us most about this project is the potential that these drawings have for each of us to participate in the art form of the Kanjivaram,” she explains.
The design transferred on to silk
Open the book and almost immediately you see familiar motifs. You have seen them before on the Kanjivarams hanging in your cupboard. From the distinctive round rudrakshams and graceful Paisleys to grand annams and stately elephants. I know I am going to shade the paisley, but which one would Ahalya colour first?
“I don’t really have a single favourite motif, but I do think the annam is very beautiful and classic. What I love about it is that we see the annam in so many forms of art across South India, from brass work and sculpture to textile and painting. It is a mythological bird that represents the best of what each of us pursues in our own lives I think: love and peace. This idea of a bird as a messenger is very lovely, and I think the symbol resonates with the dove in the Western world as well.”
While Vanam Singaram is by no means a comprehensive documentation of the Kanjivaram motifs, Ahalya says it is a beginning. “Traditionally, most motifs are born as free-hand drawings and then converted into graphs for the loom by people trained in the process. For us to produce this book, free-hand drawings had to be converted into digital drawings.”
The free-hand drawings were of the prodigious (late) N Veerappan, who won a National Award for Craft with his creation of a silk scarf that comprised 1600 different types of designs inspired by the silk and cotton saris of South India. Veerappan trained in the arts and worked with the likes of Rukmini Devi Arundale (Founder, Kalakshetra Foundation) and cultural activist Pupul Jayakar and artists and art teachers from Santiniketan.
His son Palanivel, also an award-winning weaver, generously shared his father’s free-hand drawings that found their way into the book. “Converting someone’s work into digital art was a very laborious process. Those who saw merit in the Vanam Singaram project and were involved in bringing it to life put in hours of work across two years to bring this colouring book to the world,” says Ahalya.
There is a section in the book that tells you of the traditional hues. Chilli reds, turmeric yellows, parrot greens and the famous MS Blue and a Fanta orange too! One learns of the significance of the colours and their associations to either familiar food and spirituality! From tomatoes, onions and brinjals to mangoes, jamuns, cardamom and saffron … these are the delicious, sumptuous and evocative shades that a Kanjivaram can be.
A motif with elephansts
We all wear the Kanjivaram. But, according to Ahalya, “The Vanam Singaram colouring book is an attempt to reach out to a wider audience so that people can appreciate what goes into the Kanjivaram beyond just wearing the sari. It allows people to celebrate the art of the Kanjivaram — its provenance, the skill that goes into its weave and its relevance in our culture. About 10-15years ago, everyone was quite sure that the idea of the sari was declining, that young people did not take to the sari as much as their parents and grandparents had. Fortunately, over the last few years we have seen a return to the sari,” she says and adds, “Any art, I believe, becomes precious only when there are enough people who appreciate it. This book, Ekavalli Foundation hopes, will draw more people into the world of the Kanjivaram.”
When A K Chettiar asked Subhas Chandra Bose to smile for a picture, he was told, ‘I do not smile under orders’
Netaji with A.C.N. Nambiar, Hedy Fülöp-Miller, his nephew A.N. Bose and Emilie Schenkl. The picture was taken by A.K. Chettiar in 1937 in Badgestein, Austria. Image courtesy of A R Venkatachalapathy
In the winter of 1937, Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose spent six weeks in Badgestein, Austria, recouping his health. A few photographs, shot against the background of the snow-covered hills, have survived from those days. Dressed in a heavy coat Netaji is seen with A C N Nambiar, Hedy Fülöp-Miller, his nephew A N Bose and Emilie Schenkl. These photographs were shot by a most unlikely person. The man behind the camera was a self-effacing young man of twenty-six, born in the dry hinterland of the Tamil country.
Annamalai Karuppan Chettiar or A K Chettiar (1911-1983) was a journalist who had edited journals in his hometown of Karaikudi, and later in Rangoon. Barely two months before photographing Netaji, on a voyage from New York to Dublin, he had hit upon an audacious idea. He wanted to make a documentary on Gandhi based near-exclusively on footage already shot by various news agencies and amateurs. To realize this dream he circumnavigated the world twice even as the World War was imminent, collected over 50,000 feet of actual footage, produced the documentary, and released it first in Tamil, in August 1940 (and a little later in Telugu). In 1950 it was made in Hindi. In 1953, he remade the film in Hollywood and released it under the title Mahatma Gandhi: Twentieth Century Prophet. But all this was later.
A few years earlier, Chettiar had trained in the Imperial College of Photography in Tokyo and later in the New York Institute of Photography. While studying at New York, he interned with the famed Pathé News agency. Even though he was critical of the Nazis, he had come to Germany, for 10 weeks, to train under Karl Vass of the Nazi Propaganda Bureau.
It was at this time, in December 1937, that Chettiar wrote to Netaji from Vienna asking to film him. We do not know why he wanted to film him — it is likely that it was for his film on Gandhi. Chettiar’s original documentary on Gandhi not having survived — Chettiar could beat the British censors and the police during the Quit India movement but not the apathy of his countrymen — we do not know for sure.
Netaji replied promptly. But the letter carried only a post box number. Chettiar did not hesitate. He promptly took a train early next morning, and arrived late in the evening at Badgestein. He planned to check into a hotel room, hoping to enquire of Netaji’s whereabouts at the post office later.
At the train station was a swarm of hoteliers, and Chettiar chose one. But the agent soon handed over Chettiar’s luggage to another man. When they reached the hotel a surprised A C N Nambiar emerged wondering how Chettiar had managed to trace him. Soon they surmised that the hotelier had assumed that a brown-skinned man could have come only to meet Netaji and had brought him there.
At the dinner table was A N Bose, the son of Netaji’s elder brother studying at England who was visiting his uncle. Two women, Fülöp-Miller, a writer and “a younger woman, Subhas Babu’s secretary whom he later married”, Emilie Schenkl, were present as well.
Ignoring Chettiar’s protests that it was too late in the evening to bother the great man, Nambiar announced that Netaji, lodged in an adjacent room, would meet them soon. But before he made his appearance the wine bottle on the table was put away. Chettiar felt edgy — he never imagined that he would be able to meet Netaji in person, and at such close quarters. He thought to himself, “So many lakhs of people in India were eager to have a darshan of Subhas babu. Few could meet him alone in India. But here I was and wondered at my great fortune.” As he greeted the leader with folded hands, he trembled.
Netaji put him at ease. Enquiring after him, Netaji did not stop with checking with the hotel owner if everything was fine. He took Chettiar to his room, checked on the amenities and showed him the use of the toilet facilities. An emotional Chettiar could barely sleep that night. Tossing in bed he woke up unusually late the next morning.
The next day it was lunchtime before he met Netaji. At the table, Chettiar observed, Netaji’s conversation was marked by “resolve and humour”. Chettiar snapped a number of pictures in the afternoon. The following morning Chettiar made Netaji sit on a chair at the hotel entrance. But when asked to smile, he replied: “I do not smile under orders.”
It was a cold winter day, and Chettiar could barely click the camera with gloves on, and therefore he removed them. By the time he had clicked twice his fingers had become numb. Blood began to ooze from his fingers. Netaji rushed to him, bandaged his fingers with his handkerchief, and ordered that it was “enough of taking pictures”. The next day, the shooting continued with Chettiar’s new and expensive moving camera. Chettiar’s work was over in three days. But Netaji asked him to stay for a few more days. Chettiar observed in his memoir, written 24 years later, “I had the fortune of staying with Subhas Babu for one whole week when all I had requested was a couple of hours.” One afternoon he also had the privilege of going out with Netaji and his group on a sleigh drawn by dogs. When Chettiar left for Rome from Badgestein, Netaji helped Chettiar with purchasing the tickets.
This was not Chettiar’s only meeting with Netaji. A year later he filmed him during the Congress working committee meeting at Wardha. Two years later, when in Calcutta, Chettiar went to meet him. At the Elgin Road residence, Chettiar was taken by Netaji’s secretary to his bedroom. Netaji was resting on his bed after lunch. Apologizing, he said, “When I meet familiar persons I do not observe formalities,” and pointed to the wall. The photographs snapped by Chettiar at Badgestein hung there. “I love the snow,” said Netaji.
The author is a historian and Tamil writer based in Chennai
source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph, Online Edition / by A.R. Venkatachalapathy / October 30th, 2018
Seven books and 40 years of service. Meet Srinivasa Venkatraman, a 95-year-old retired railway historian, whose child-like enthusiasm and energy defy age.
Venkatraman’s (third from left) latest book will be launched at the rail museum in New Delhi on November 18
Chennai :
Seven books and 40 years of service. Meet Srinivasa Venkatraman, a 95-year-old retired railway historian, whose child-like enthusiasm and energy defy age. Dressed in a formal shirt and pant, his eyes gleam through a pair of brown glasses as he vividly narrates his life story. “These books are my prized possessions.
Anybody working on railway projects, PhD topics and preparing for UPSC examinations will find them to be important resource materials. The topmost railway officials and general managers have appreciated my work. I hope to take these books to the shelves of railway museums, libraries, hospital and other public spheres in the future. My books will help youngsters respect the heritage,” says the nonagenarian.
Photo: Debadatta Mallick
Madras to Varanasi
A resident of Mylapore, Venkatraman joined the Madras Southern Mahratta railway in 1942 as the materials manager. His job was to receive materials required for the trains and distribute them to other station masters. He was stationed at Hubli, one of the biggest workshops of those times, where locomotives used to be given for service, till 1944.
Soon, he was transferred to Madras. The railway board in Delhi then was looking to recruit 100 people across the country with five from each state. Venkatraman cleared the test and moved to the national Capital and worked there between 1944-1956. “My wife Lalitha Venkatraman and I completed our Bachelors in arts degree in Delhi. I enrolled for evening classes at Birla Mandir. I’d pass on the books to my wife who studied at home.
That was the time when steam engines were replaced by diesel engines. I requested for a transfer to Varanasi where a huge diesel locomotive workshop was set up. My wife completed her MA in Political Science at Banaras Hindu University. That motivated me to get my own Masters in Political Science from Tribhuvan University in Kathmandu. She went on to pursue her PhD in the same subject. We lived our golden period between 1957-1982 in Varanasi and I retired as a stores officer there,” shares Venkatraman, who continued to stay in Varanasi for another 20 years and came back to Chennai in 2008.
Fame at 90
After his retirement in 1985, Venkatraman used to write several articles for the Indian Railway Magazine every once in three to six months. He learned how to write a footnote, gather research materials and collect books from his wife who was actively involved with her PhD lectures. In 2013, he penned his first book Indian Railways- the Beginning. After an overwhelming response, he published his second book Indian Railways at a glance in 2014.
But, given the volume of information, Srinivasa had to simplify it through four subsequent books — The Madras Railway (2014), The Goa Railway (2015), PM Modi- the Indian Railways (2016) and The Pondicherry Railway (2017). Every book has a set of pictures, extensive history and images of preserved documents from the times of Britishers. The latest book on The Nilgiris Mountain Railway will be launched at the rail museum in New Delhi by BBC correspondent Mark Tully on November 18. The book is dedicated to the current chairman of Indian Railway Board, Ashwani Lohani.
“I type 20 pages a day. My four children were concerned about my health. I spent most of my time on the trains, covered more than 1,000 stations and lived like a nomad. Despite the one-man army effort there was not much of a recognition or empathy at all.
After a point, it became emotional and physically draining. Sourcing of information and rare documents from national archives was a daunting task. My motive is to preserve these heritage documentations not for fame but for my own satisfaction. Even when I sleep, the determination to pen another book constantly keeps me awake,” says Venkatraman.
Memorable trips
“Every Sunday there’s a train from Chennai to Goa. My favourite rail route has always been from Goa to Londa (a town in Karnataka). I must have taken that route at least a 1,000 times. One such experience was through Braganza Ghat, a stretch of hill station at Goa-Karnataka border.
It is the steepest gradient in Indian railways. The way these Britishers have constructed the tracks, bridges and brake system is impeccable. The engines designed to function in hill stations have an excellent brake system and engine power. One engine pushes the other from behind and climbs up the hills. Sadly, we find it difficult to maintain these engines and keep them in a good condition.”
For details call Venkatraman on 9444444865
What’s your take on bullet trains in India?
Bullet trains are not required in the present circumstances. But in order to keep pace with America, China and Japan we may need it in the future. We have evolved from having tradition steam engines to diesel and eventually electric. On the downside, considering the exorbitant price of a bullet train, it might not be affordable. We need to make a foundation today to achieve something big in 10 years. It is a necessary evil after all.
If you were made the Railway minister what changes would you bring about?
The work culture has to be changed. Discipline must be enforced and punishments should be given. People take the Railways for granted. Unionism must be broken. We need to sack people if they’re not performing efficiently.
Rail routes that Indians must go on at least once
Mettupalayam-Ooty: This beautiful mountainous railway is worth seeing. The functioning is peculiar. Here, the engine from the back pushes the train forward. Kalka-Shimla: The toy train is a delight to watch considering the scenic path it takes. And, the Mumbai-Pune route.
Did you know?
● The Railways is the largest employer with a total of 1.4 million employees
● There are around 7,500 small and big stations in India
● The Southern Railways was created on April 14, 1951
● The first passenger train in South India ran from Royapuram to Wallajah road on July 1,1856
Source: tnpscthervupettagam.com
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Chennai / by Vaishali Vijaykumar / Express News Service / November 08th, 2018
Vijayabhaskaran is another example to prove that not all heroes wear capes.
Vijayabhaskaran outside his tailor shop at Alwarpet | DEBADATTA MALLICK
Chennai :
Vijayabhaskaran is another example to prove that not all heroes wear capes. The 67-year-old tree warden — a public official in charge of shade trees on public town lands — has planted close to 150 saplings in and around Alwarpet to try and restore the green cover the area lost after the fury of Cyclone Vardah. The numbers may not be staggering but when you take into account the limited space in a congested city like Chennai, it would indicate his conviction and determination.
While he is used to putting his hands to good use — he is a tailor when he is not planting saplings in and around Chennai — he has gone over and above his calling to replenish the greenery. Though an officer of the State forest department (appointed two decades ago), he spends money out of his pocket to protect the environment.
“Every month I set aside Rs 3,000-Rs 5,000 to buy new saplings of rare trees that we do not find in the city anymore. Whenever I spot an empty space either on a sidewalk or near a house I make a mental note to plant a sapling there the next day,” he informs TNIE. Over the last 20 years, he has planted more than 10,000 saplings in parts of South Chennai. An average of 500 trees per year may not count for much but considering the hurdles he has to jump (lack of finances and no support from the local body), his contribution can’t be measured in numbers.
He doesn’t stop there. His pet projects include planting fruit-bearing tree saplings in neighbouring villages like Palur in Kancheepuram. “Last year, I took close to 50 students from Anna University to Palur. We planted 100 saplings in four hours. The saplings I planted 10 years ago now give the villagers a variety of fruits like mango, guava and coconut,” he beams.
His best work gently sways to the tunes of winds all over the city. Through an environmental NGO, Exnora’s tree-planting division, he has planted 350 tree saplings in 13 bus terminals across the city, at two temple tanks in Mylapore, close to 1,000 saplings in multiple city colleges, parks and along numerous footpaths at Kottupuram, Teynampet, Boat Club, RA Puram and neighbouring localities.
While he has planted more than 25 varieties of trees, he takes special care to plant native species like Poovarasu, Badam, Maghizham and Vembu, which are known for their resistance to natural calamities. He has also roped in students from NSS wings of many colleges in the city to assist him in the planting process. The next time you come across a rare or exotic tree in the city, you can thank Vijayabhaskaran, the unassuming senior citizen who plants and safeguards trees for a living.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Chennai / by Madhumitha Viswanath / Express News Service / November 09th, 2018
An interview with the acclaimed translator of Tamil literature into English.
Photo credit: Pradeep Cherian
Of the five novels shortlisted for the inaugural JCB Prize for Literature, two were translations, and one, Benyamin’s Jasmine Days, was the winner. The other was Perumal Murugan’s Poonachi: Or The Story Of A Black Goat, which has been translated from Tamil into English by N Kalyan Raman. Raman has been translating Tamil fiction and poetry into English for the last two decades, for which he received the Pudumaipithan Award in 2017.
Some of the fiction writers he’s made accessible to an Anglophone audience include the late Ashokamitran, Devibharathi, Vaasanthi, Perumal Murugan, and Poomani. He has translated numerous Tamil poets, including forty poems by forty Tamil women poets for an anthology curated by Kutti Revathi. Speaking to Scroll.in, Raman detailed the ways in which the discourse around translated literature in India can be strengthened, his reaction to Poonachi being shortlisted for the JCB Prize, the immersive research he puts into translating the voices of identities he doesn’t inhabit – such as Dalit or female experiences – the need for recognising and supporting younger and newer Tamil voices, and much else. Excerpts from the interview:
In a previous interview, you’ve spoken of a learning curve in the skill of a translator. When looking back at your body of work, is it obvious to you that there’s been a gradual accruement of skill over the years? Can you talk to us a little about some of the ways in which you’ve grown as a translator over the years?
My first book as a translator, a collection of short stories by Ashokamitran, was published twenty years ago. Ten more have followed since. I can say with certainty that I am no longer the timorous amateur who worked on that first book. As to how skilled I am today as a translator, it is not for me to say.
A basic skill that I’ve learnt is: how to write a literary text of narrative prose fiction in English, with all the nuances – of voice, intent and context – of the original work intact. It took me several years to be able to do this effectively and with a degree of confidence.
Beyond that, translating poetry, especially women’s poetry, was a huge challenge. On the dimensions of language and form, writing the translation as a poem in English stretched my abilities as a creative writer. To be able to read these feminist poems right, I had to acquire a serviceable understanding of the cultural, political and emotional contexts of feminist poetry and discourse. So, I read a lot of women’s poetry, and tapped into my own personal exposure to and understanding of such themes and concerns. A similar process of self-education became necessary when I started translating Dalit and subaltern literary texts, both fiction and poetry.
In terms of personal growth, I have been able to work with texts across a variety of genres and themes, but they are only a tiny fraction of what exists out there.
You’ve pointed out that there is an insufficient ecosystem around literature in translation in India. Could you tell us about some of the ways in which you believe coverage in the media and organisation of events can support and critically evaluate translated literature and translators?
Literary texts in any Indian language (other than English) emerge from the literary tradition of that language and from the life and history of that language community. We need a discourse in English on translated texts that is alive to these contexts and is also able to meaningfully map these works to a wider Anglophone milieu. So, what we need is a cadre of reviewers with the necessary background and experience, who can contribute to the development of such a discourse, even across languages. Obviously, we need to encourage and accommodate such people within existing structures for reviewing and critical assessment. I am not able to say how feasible this might be.
As for translators, I think more of them should get into reviewing translated texts, to improve the state of the art, as it were, so that others might learn from it.
Indie presses devoted to translations can promote translated texts with more vigour and conviction than most mainstream publishers with a range of obligations are able to do. Web magazines devoted to translations and dialogue with translators, something on the lines of the Asymptote Journal, can do a world of good.
As for events, I think more sessions and panel discussions featuring only practising translators to cover the art and craft of translation would be a good idea. Identification of the best translations published each year and publishing profiles of their translators would also help to promote translated literature and bring it some level of prestige.
If there is a pie-in-the-sky feel to what I’ve said here, I guess that’s wholly unavoidable, given where we are right now.
What does being shortlisted for the JCB Prize mean for you?
It means a certain degree of public recognition and I am happy for it. As a translator, I am even more pleased that it’s a context where people can talk about and evaluate literary texts without worrying about the language of origin. As a translator, I am happy to be in the land of what Walter Benjamin has called a language beyond languages.
How often do you choose the texts you end up translating, and how often do people approach you to translate a text? What are some of the considerations before you take on a translation project?
In a majority of cases, I choose the text in consultation with the author (or their representative, as the case may be) and make a proposal to the publisher. I have also done translations under my own steam and found a publisher later. It’s rare for a publisher to approach me with a project of their own. It happened, though, with the two Perumal Murugan books I did recently.
For me, the consideration is always the literary significance of the text and my own personal engagement with it as a reader and critic. It would be impossible to translate a text that one didn’t feel strongly about.
Arshia Sattar has said that the jury of a literary prize must “seek the outlier, and not the conventional, mainstream writer.” Do you see the role of the translator in a similar way? Well, a jury’s job ends with the selection of a winner, whereas a translator’s job begins with a choice, and if I may so, the latter involves a lot more work! Seriously, the two contexts are not strictly comparable because translation involves choosing from works produced over a long period. In the case of modernist Tamil literature, it is 80 years and counting. Moreover, the choice of works for translation is a collective, social enterprise and not just an aggregation of choices made by individual translators. There are many institutions as well as special interests involved.
That said, the number of works in modern Tamil literature that can and should be translated is huge and only a small fraction of that number has been published in translation. So, any translator would be spoilt for choice.
Right now the selection of books for translation is guided by good intentions on the part of all concerned – publishers, editors and translators – but it is also haphazard to the extent that there is no invisible hand behind this process to ensure that the best works in a particular language are translated on priority. Even among contemporary writers, some are pushed forward through contacts with publishers and others, equally meritorious, are ignored. An attempt at a broad-based and consultative selection of works for translation and finding publishers for them is being attempted in Malayalam through the university system. We might need some variant of this model as the engine for choosing works for translation from literature in every major Indian language.
There is another flaw in the current process which needs conscious correction. Selection of texts for translation is highly skewed in favour of well-known books by famous authors, in other words, modern classics published at least a few decades earlier. In the Tamil literary milieu, new and experimental writing, especially by younger writers, hardly ever makes it to the ranks of the chosen. This needs to change.
What were some of the most rewarding aspects of translating Poonachi? What were some of the challenges?
Poonachi is a very special work, a superbly imagined tale for our times, which is also profound in its exploration of the human condition through the life-trajectory of a little black goat. It was fun to bring this dazzling story alive in English. It is also gratifying to see that it has caught the imagination of the reading public across the country. It may even endure as a classic representing this particular, and particularly unfortunate, period in the life of our country.
Murugan’s prose style is elegant and modern even when he is describing the life of a subaltern community. In most of his works, the lives of his characters are inextricably merged with the terrain and landscape, trees and plants, along with bird and animals. Poonachi is a differently imagined story composed using the same elements. Having read his novels and written about them, I did not find this part difficult.
Poonachi is also filled with grief, especially towards the end, and reproducing his humane but unsentimental tone was quite a challenge. But the biggest challenge was meeting the deadline for publication, barely four months from start to finish. I, along with Karthika, my editor at Westland, did this book virtually on the run, and this was certainly a novel experience for me.
In the coming years, whose work would you like to see readers pay greater attention to? Whose work would you like to see translated into other languages?
I would like to see readers pay more attention to Ashokamitran. A lot of his work is available in English translation and much of it is world-class, but his work hasn’t received the kind of critical attention it deserves outside Tamil Nadu. It would be a great loss and a pity if his work doesn’t reach succeeding generations of Indian readers.
As for authors whose work I would like to see translated into other languages, especially English, here is a very personal list:
Fiction by older writers: Pudumaipithan, more of Sundara Ramasamy and Ashokamitran, Thi Janakiraman, Na Muthuswamy and fresh translations of Jayakanthan.
Fiction by living writers: More of Imayam, Devibharathi, Poomani, Jeyamohan, Vaasanthi. Experimental fiction by Payon.
Poetry: Atmanaam, Perundevi and Payon.
Plays: Na Muthuswamy and Indira Parthasarathi.
source: http://www.scroll.in / Scroll.in / Home> Meet The Translator / by Urvashi Bahuguna / November 04th, 2018
